


Loves Me Not

by tylerg



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, BUT THEY DONT KNOW, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), F/F, F/M, Gay Keith (Voltron), I love my boys, Internet Famous, M/M, Minor Adam/Shiro (Voltron), Minor Allura/Romelle (Voltron), Minor Hunk/Shay (Voltron), Minor Lance/Nyma (Voltron), Multi, Musician Keith (Voltron), Mutual Pining, Pining Keith (Voltron), Sad Keith (Voltron), Singer Keith (Voltron), Slow Burn, bc they dumb, bc valid, buckle up babey, but like lance is taken, dont hate her pls, dumb gay energy, he goes viral, he sings an original, ill tag as i go - Freeform, its a tag apparently, its gonna be a long one, keith gets internet famous, keith signs up for a competition, klance, like very slow, nyma is a sweetheart, smol dumb gays, sorta - Freeform, this is very slow paced, whatever lmao, whoops
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-22
Updated: 2018-11-06
Packaged: 2019-08-06 05:24:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16382228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tylerg/pseuds/tylerg
Summary: When Keith signs up for the annual Rose Competition, he doesn’t expect for his self-indulgent song about his crush to go viral on Youtube, making him internet famous in the span of a few hours.Oh god, what is he going to do?





	1. persuation

**Author's Note:**

> me: *isnt done writing the next few aftermath chaps*
> 
> also me: lets start a completely new fic!!
> 
> okay so ive actaully been planning this fic out since like chapter five of (YC) DYF and like,, im so!! excited for this!! tell me what you think!!
> 
> enjoy!! x

It was clear was Pidge’s intent was, but there was _no_ way Keith was going to give her the satisfaction. He ignored her pleas and constant ramblings on how it was “a great idea,” and moved on with whatever he was doing at time.

“It’s not _my_ fault Keith’s stubborn.” Pidge grunts from behind him. Keith sighs, blocking out the teacher's lecture and turning around to face her. Hunk is there too, smiling apologetically.

“I’m not gonna do it, Pidge.” He states, staring into her eyes.

She leans forward. “Fuck you,”

Keith rolls his eyes. “No thanks, I’m gay.”

Hunk snorts in amusement, leaning in as well. “Well, I think it’s a good idea, Keith. You should really consider it.”

Keith groans. “Not you too, Hunk. Do you guys want me to fucking die?” He asks rhetorically. Hunk shrugs, glancing up at the teacher to make sure she hadn’t noticed them. She hadn’t.

“You’re not going to die, Keith. It’s just a little friendly competition.” He says softly. Pidge nods along. Keith groans again.

“It doesn’t fucking matter. You guys _do_ realize I can _barely_ give presentations in class without having a fucking _breakdown_ right before? Now, imagine _me,_ on a _stage,_ in front of _dozens_ of people. I’m going to fucking _die_.” He hisses.

Pidge makes an attempt to reason with him, but then gets cut off by the teacher’s booming voice.

“Kogane. Holt. What is it that is so _very_ interesting?” She asks, staring them down. Keith turns around to face the front, rolling his eyes.

“Nothing,” he says, face rid of emotion.

“ _Actually_ ,” Pidge emphasizes, annoying Keith even further. “We were talking about the  _Rose Competition,_ and how Keith is going to sign up.”

The words  _Rose Competition_ caused an uprise of jumbled conversations between the students of Ms. Black’s third block.

The _Rose Competition_ was an annual talent show held every spring, among all the schools in the city, meant to raise money for a the LGBTQ+ organization _Bloom._

 _Bloom_ had been founded by Altean Academy’s current vice principal, Coran Smythe, about eight years ago. _Bloom_ was a safe space for children and teens in the LGBTQ community, housing said kids if necessary.

The ongoing metaphor was _“With proper care, these buds will bloom.”_ Buds referring to kids, of course.

Back when Mr. Smythe first decided to get his _(then)_ little project going, he and his team were a bit _(a lot)_ short on money. Mr. Smythe, being great friends with Alfor Quinn _(Altean Academy’s current principal)_ had pulled some strings and ended up pitching his idea to the City Council through Mr. Quinn’s connections.

The Council, of course, was a bit wary about the idea so instead of funding the newborn organization themselves, they came up with a compromise.

All the schools in the city _(which wasn’t many to begin with)_ would hold a collective competition, showcasing the students’ different talents.

Entrances to see the show would be five dollars and there would also be a five dollar sign up fee.

The way the _Rose Competition_ would work was that small bouquets of fake roses would be bought by the audience if they wished to donate to the foundation and choose a winner. The show was also streamed online, watchers being able to donate as well.

A bundle of white roses were five dollars, pink ones were ten, and red ones were twenty. Each bouquet held ten roses, the buyer being able to toss to _(and vote for)_ anyone they’d like using them. White roses would count as one vote, pink as three, and red as five.

Audience members were allowed to vote for as many people as the wished, and they were also allowed to throw their whole bouquet at one act if they really enjoyed it.

The roses were counted after each act, causing there to be brief intermissions between each one. This was proved to be an effective way to run things because audience members were allowed to leave or pick up some snacks at the concession stands within the small time frames. It also allowed performers a few minutes to calm down their nerves.

At the end of the night, all the roses pertaining to the different acts were put against each other, and whoever had received the most would win a prize and be guaranteed a spot on the _Bloom_ hall of fame.

The _Rose Competition_ had blown up its first year, raising the _Bloom_ organization a good 10,000 dollars to get started. Donations came in a strong steady flow after that, raising enough money to help Bloom develop their own complex.

The _Rose Competition_ had become popular enough to be held annually in the city, and to also get attention nationwide due to the increase of social media usage throughout the years.

There had been tons of interviews and news stories since then, boosting _Bloom_ ’s popularity throughout the LGBTQ community.

In fact, _Bloom_ has become one of the biggest LGBTQ organizations in the country, now sporting four huge campuses all across North America. One in California, one in New York, the newest one in D.C., and the original one in Florida.

And to think it all started because Mr. Smythe’s job as a guidance counselor really opened up his eyes to the world of homophobia induced bullying.

“Oh, really?” Ms. Black beamed, eyes widening. It was no secret that she absolutely _loved_  the _Rose Competition._

“No,” Keith replied, though he was drowned out by Pidge’s loud “Yes!” Keith turned in his seat and glared. Pidge smirked.

“No,” Keith repeated firmly. He turned around once more. “Let’s just move on,”

Ms. Black shoots him a skeptical look, shaking her head. She then took back the room’s attention, continuing with her lesson.

Keith sighs. Pidge taps his shoulder. Keith doesn't turn around.

“This isn’t over.” She whispers menacingly.

Keith scoffs, completely unaffected. “You’ve been saying that for five days now.”

Pidge huffs, losing her imitating act. “Fuck you.”

;

“Blah, blah, blah, _bleh!_ ” Keith mocks as the three of them make their way to the back of the lunch line. Pidge groans. Hunk chuckles.

“ _Keef_. You absolute _idiot!_ ” She exclaims, grabbing the attention of some bystanders. Hunk sends them an apologetic look as the line moves forward.

“This could be really great for you! Just imagine it! You on that stage, singing your little emo heart out! Plus, we’ll be there to support you so you don’t have end up panicking or some shit.” Pidge says, making weird hand movements to emphasize her point.

Keith sighs, moving up in the line, Hunk and Pidge shuffling along behind him. “Pidge, that literally doesn’t matter. Even if do end up not _throwing up_ the _second_ I’m on stage, who’s to say I’m any good?”

Hunk squints at Keith as Pidge’s face scrunches. “Can your self-esteem go any lower? You’re fucking amazing. Here’s why,” She starts, holding up one finger. The line moves up.

“One, you have an _amazing_ voice; two, you can play piano, guitar, _and_ ukulele like a fucking pro; three, you have an _amazing_ music taste so you’re bound to cover an _amazing_ song; and three, if you can’t choose a song, friendly reminder that you’re a fucking _songwriter_. You can write an original and _blow_ everyone _the fuck_ out the water.”

Keith blushes in embarrassment, avoiding eye contact. “Fuck off,” he mutters. The line moves forward.

Pidge laughs wholeheartedly. “It’s true!” She insists. Hunk nods along.

“Pb and j, please.” Keith says to the student behind the glass. The student nods, handing him a tray with the sandwich. Keith thanks them, moving forward.

“What Pidge is saying _is_ true. Now, I’ve only heard you a few times, but man. You’re fantastic.” Hunk says, smiling brightly.

Keith’s shoulders sag and his face grows hot. He grabs a carton of chocolate milk and a bag of apple juice.

“Yeah, and it’s not our fault you can’t take a compliment.” Pidge adds. Keith huffs, scanning his ID at the cash register, ignoring her and walking away. Pidge laughs, running to catch up to him.

They exit the building and head towards their round table outside. Allura, Romelle, and Shay are already there, murmuring between themselves. Hunk catches up to them and takes his usual seat next to Shay. Pidge sits on the next bench beside them and Keith sits next to her.

“What up lesbos,” Pidge greets, raising an eyebrow at Allura and Romelle. Romelle giggles as Allura scoffs.

Keith unwraps his Uncrustable and takes a bite. “Okay so, here’s the sitch.” Pidge starts, dipping a chicken tender into a puddle of ketchup. “We all know Keith is an amazing musician, right?”

Keith groans, stuffing more of his sandwich into his face. Pidge sticks her tongue out at him and turns back to the couple. “Right. So, I said he should sign up for the Rose Competition, and guess what he said?!”

Romelle furrows her eyebrows. “…No?” She asks hesitantly.

“No!” Pidge repeats, munching on her chicken. “Exactly! He keeps saying that he’s not good and no one’s gonna like him, but it’s all bullshit! He should sign up!”

Keith finishes his sandwich, downing his chocolate milk. “I think it’ll be a good experience, Keith. I’ve signed up already. You should to.” Allura agrees, smiling reassuringly. As much as Keith wants to recorpriate it, all he can manage is a grimace.

“I just don’t think I should.” He admits, pushing his tray away from him. He places his arms on the table, leaning onto them.

“Don’t think you should what?” A voice then asks. A hand ruffles Keith’s hair before the owner sits down on the bench beside him.

Keith hands him his leftover juice, which is gladly accepted. Keith still shifts in his seat though, partially embarrassed. He always gets like that when he’s around.

“Lance!” Pidge exclaims. “Keith thinks he shouldn’t sign up for the Rose Competition, but he should, right?”

Keith wants to die.

Lance looks at him, furrowing his eyebrows, but smiling wide. “Hell yeah! That’d be so cool! You have a great voice, you should go for it.”

Keith sends him a tight smile. A wave of sweet perfume overcomes his senses, and Keith doesn’t even have to look up to know who it is.

“There you are,” Nyma says, smiling brightly at her boyfriend. Keith sighs. Her eyes skim over everyone at the table. “Hey guys.”

Nyma is greeted by small smiles and waves, silently being invited to join them. She sits in the seat next to Lance, instinctively grabbing his hand as she began a conversation with Allura and Romelle. Lance smiles at her before turning back to Keith.

“You really should though. You’re amazing,” He says sincerely. Keith feels his stomach churn, his voice getting caught in this throat. He averts his gaze away from Lance, not wanting to end up saying something stupid.

“Everyone says that.” He mutters, picking at his sweater sleeve. Lance laughs warmly. Keith’s face goes a shade darker.

“And why do you think that is?” He asks lowly. His eyes are piercing and so _stupidly_ blue, Keith hates him for it.

Why did he have to be taken?

“Shut up.” He musters, trying not to blush. Lance laughs again.

He leans forward, Keith can feel his breath on his face. “Today’s the last day to sign up. The competition is next week. I think you should do it.” Lance informs. Keith sighs.

“I’ll think about it.” He lies. At least, he _tries_ to.

He _does_ end up thinking about it, for the rest of the day. In the hallway. In fifth block. In the far stairwell affectionately named the “Kissing Corner.” In seventh block.

Right after school as he walked to the main office, looking for _the_ bulletin board.

He thought, and thought, and thought. His stomach felt knotted and he can feel a weight pulling down on his shoulders.

_I’m not going to do it. I’m not going to do it._

There was one spot left, all the way at the bottom of the paper, underneath all the scribbled names. He spots Allura’s near the middle. His pen clicks.

_I'm not going to do it. I'm not going to do it._

He signs his name with a flourish, sighing.

_Godammit._


	2. five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> five days until the rose competition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> filler chap!!
> 
> enjoy!! x

Sunday morning rolls around and the first thing Keith thinks is _fuck_.

His eyes burn, his back is sore, and his arm _hurts_. He had slept in an uncomfortable position.

He blinks a few times, eyes adjusting to the bright sun rays shining on his face. He really needs to get darker curtains.

He sits up groggily, wiping at his face tiredly. He sighs, crawling out of bed. He almost slips on his socked feet on the way to the bathroom, grumbling under his breath.

He brushes his teeth lazily, the toothpaste dribbling down the neck of the brush, making his right hand sticky. He gags at the feeling, almost choking on his toothbrush.

He rinses out his mouth and toothbrush, making sure to clean the toothpaste off his hand. He rubs at his face with wet hands, then drying off with a hand towel.

He eyes his reflection, squinting. Then, he remembers. He groans, running his hands through his bedhead.

Fuck. He _really_ did that. He _really_ signed up. He did _that_.

_Fuck._

The fact that it hadn’t really hit him till _now_ was pathetic. He takes a deep breath, exhaling out of his nose.

A quiet mantra of _fucks_ escapes his lips as he walks out of the bathroom and down the hall, his whispering growing louder with every step.

 _“Fuck!”_ He cries out in frustration. He feels like he could punch something. So he does.

Granted, the air around him doesn’t really count as _something_ , but it's not _nothing_. He huffs, flopping onto the couch in the living room. He grabs one of his mother’s beloved throw pillows and screams into it.

When he’s finished, his throat is raw and he _sorta_ feels better. He sits up, sighing. It’s only now he realizes that it’s too quiet in his house and that his mom was probably at work already.

His suspicions are proven to be true when he finds a note on the fridge.

_I’ve got a few facials today. Text me if you're going out._

He sighs, dropping the note on the counter and going over to one of the cabinets. He flips it open and grabs the half empty box of fruit loops. He takes them back to his room, eating them dry.

He crawls back into his bed, sitting with his legs crossed. He grabs the tv remote from his nightstand and turns on the small flat screen mounted on his wall. It springs to life, showcasing the bright colors of a cartoon.

Keith shifts in his bed, picking at the blue fruit loops in the box. He likes those the best.

Something vibrates under his pillow and Keith lifts it up, finding his phone going off. There’s a blurry zoomed-in picture and a familiar name across the screen. Keith wonders why he’s calling so early.

He looks up at the time, which read 1:54 PM. Nevermind.

Keith unplugs his phone from its charger and lowers the volume on the television, answering the call with a swipe.

“Yeah?” He asks, still munching on his cereal.

“Don’t _yeah?_ me! Why didn’t you tell me you were gonna sign up?” Shiro asks enthusiastically. Keith’s eyes widen comically.

“How’d you know?!” He gasps. He hadn’t told _anyone_.

“I _didn’t_ know! That’s the _thing!_ Why didn’t you tell me?! I had to find out from _Pidge!_ She just told me!” His older brother exclaims.

“She _what?!_ How _the fuck_ did she know?!” Keith shrieks.

“I don’t know! That’s why I’m calling! Why didn’t you tell anyone?! Tell _me?!”_ Shiro asks. Keith sighs, throwing himself backwards, laying down on his bunched up comforter.

“ _Fuck_ , Shiro. I’m so _stupid_. I don’t know _why_ I signed up. It was dumb. Is it too late to back out?” Keith thinks out loud.

“You’re not backing out! This could be good for you!” Shiro protests. Keith knows he means it.

Shiro had been in the competition a few years back and though he didn’t win, he _did_ get something good out of singing a love song. A boyfriend.

Keith sighs. “I have no idea what I’m going to do. I-I don’t–”

Keith sits up quickly, eyes widening even further. “Oh _fuck!_ Shiro! I don’t know what I’m going to do! I-I don’t have a song, I have no clue if I’m going to play piano or guitar or ukulele or– _Fuck!_ Oh _fuck!”_ He rambles, running a hand through his hair.

“Keith!” Shiro then shouts, grabbing his brother’s attention.

“What?!” Keith yells back, exasperated.

What is he going to do? What is he going to do? _What is he going to do?!_

“You need to relax, man.” Says the college student. “Breathe with me. In...out. In...out.”

Keith follows his instructions, trying to regulate his breathing. It takes a few minutes for Keith to finally compose himself.

“…Thanks.” He sighs. Shiro chuckles on the line.

“It’s okay, dude. There’s no need to worry. You’ll be _fine_. Just browse through some songs. Play something. I think it would make your performance ten times better.” Shiro suggests.

Keith nods along. “Yeah, yeah, um…I’ll do that. Sorry for not telling you earlier.”

Shiro blows a raspberry. “It’s cool, really. Look, I have class in a few. Good luck, Keith.”

Keith smiles sheepishly. “Thanks. Bye,”

Keith ends the call and immediately looks up a bunch of songs he could possibly use. He munches on his cereal while he scrolls through lyrics and piano chords.

An hour goes by and the cereal is gone. Keith is worn out, laying down on his back once more. He huffs in frustration.

He hadn’t found a song. Not a single one. They just didn’t feel… _right_.

He sighs. What is he going to do?


	3. four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> four days until the rose competition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy early halloween!! 
> 
> hope you enjoy this chapter!! x

Monday morning is cold and frail, the air is still. Keith wakes up in a daze, hearing the sound of his alarm filling up the room. Hearing, not listening. 

He snoozed it twice now. 

It's cold outside, he could tell. It’s odd, it was the beginning of spring. 

Groaning, he sits up, blearily glancing outside his window. The shy is a deep shade of blue  _ (maybe indigo, Keith thinks, but he’s too tired to be comparing colors right now) _ . 

There’s no light shining through the semi see-through curtains, so he blindly searches for his phone amidst his comforter and too many pillows  _ (half of them lay forgotten on the floor anyway, so finding his phone wasn’t too hard) _ .

He scoops it up in his hands and it shines bright instantly. Keith squints, making a sound dangerously similar to a hiss. He quickly turns down the brightness of the screen, sighing when the time blinks angrily at him. 5:50. 

He throws his phone back onto the bed, lying down with it. He sulks at the ceiling for two minutes. He sighs again and it turns into a long yawn. He stretches, arms and legs reaching away from his body, his toes graze edge of the bed and then “ _ Fuck!  _ Oh, fuck, fuck,  _ fuck!” _

He sits up and grips his right calf, which he could feel constraining. He had pulled a muscle.

“Ah,  _ fuck.”  _ He drawls. He stretches out his leg once more, but the pain stubbornly lingers. He scrambles out of bed, standing, hoping it would help. It doesn’t. 

Keith huffs in frustration. It’s not as bad as it initially was, but it still hurt. He walks out of his room and towards the bathroom with a slight limp. He silently hopes his mother hadn’t heard his cursing. 

She had. 

She’s standing at her bedroom doorway, in a short light pink nightgown, leaning against the frame. Her arms were crossed and her eyebrows were knitted together. She looked like she could fall into deep sleep any second now. 

“Keith? Are you alright?” She asks, voice laced with exhaustion. She had come later than she anticipated the night before. 

Keith walks  _ (read: limps)  _ past her, gritting his teeth. “Peachy,” is all he says, entering their bathroom. 

Not wanting to be late to his bus stop, he brushes his teeth quickly, rushing back into his room to get dressed. 

Ripped jeans and black docs get pulled on as an oversized shirt gets tugged off. Dark red fabric is hurriedly slipped on, slender fingers fumbling with the half zip. 

Keith groans as he hears his late alarm go off at six ten, blaring annoyingly. He shuts it off, stuffing it in his back pocket. 

He runs a hand through his hair before grabbing his bag, swinging it over his shoulder. He speedwalks out if his bedroom, ready to run as soon as he gets out of the house. 

“Keith,” His mother says. Keith stops in the middle of the hallway, looking back at her. She’s standing at her doorway again, a hesitant smile on her lips. “Eat something, okay?”

Keith blinks. “Uh, yeah. Love you.” 

He sprints  _ (limps) _ away, not waiting for a response. The front door opens and closes, a wrist twists and locks. Keith’s docs are loud and heavy in the quiet morning. 

It’s still indigo when Keith reaches his bus stop, though his phone insists that it was only six twenty five. 

Keith tiredly blinks along with the small handful of kids waiting with him. His phone vibrates in his hand and Keith looks down at the screen, sighing. 

There were three messages, two from Pidge and one from Lance. 

**_pigeon:_ **

_ im gonna rip lances head off _

_ come get ur mans p l e a s e _

Keith scoffs, replying with a  _ shut up _ . He checks Lance’s text and his stomach drops. 

**_lancey babey:_ **

_ we need to talk _

;

Upon stepping off the bus, Keith is swept off by a tall figure clad in a hawaiian shirt. 

Their fingers intertwine and Keith almost trips over his own feet as they pull him along. 

They stop abruptly and turn to face him, and Keith’ s mind is finally able to register who it was. 

Lance hovers slightly over him, sporting a huge  _ dumb _ grin. Keith would scoff if he wasn’t so red in the face. 

Is this what he meant by  _ we need to talk? _ Keith was worrying on the bus for nothing then. 

“I saw your name on the sign up sheet! When’d you plan to tell me?” Lance asks excitedly. Keith looks down at their hands. 

Lance’s were so… _ big _ compared to his own. Sure, they were roughly the same size, but Lance’s fingers were long and… _ ugh _ . Whatever. 

“Didn’t plan on it.” Keith admits, shrugging. Lance pulls a horrified expression.

“What? How dare thee?!” He exclaims dramatically. Keith’s face burns bright as he grumbles under his breath, Lance laughing at his reaction. 

The first bell goes off and Keith finds himself trailing behind Lance as they head towards their shared second block, their hands still intertwined. 

It takes every ounce of Keith’s being to not look up into Lance’s  _ stupid _ blue eyes. His stupid blue eyes that look like the night sky when indoors. His stupid navy blue eyes. 

When they stop in the middle of the hallway, Keith wants to scream. 

There she was, in all her beautiful blonde glory. Her sweet perfume filling his nostrils as she hugs him and Lance gently. 

Nyma presses a kiss on Lance’s cheek, the both of them starting up a conversation. Keith shifts awkwardly as they press against a wall, speaking in hushed voices and light tones. 

He make sures to stand at least two feet away from the couple, not wanting to disturb them. It wasn’t really effective since Lance and Keith’s hands were still clasped. 

Nyma didn’t seem to mind their conjoined hands, and it make Keith sick. 

She was just so  _ good _ . She was so sweet to everyone and everything. Her smiles were sugary and genuine, her compliments were kind and thoughtful. 

But above all, she made Lance  _ happy _ . She was his other half, she made him  _ complete _ . 

Keith wishes he could hate her. He really did. 

He wishes that he could just like Lance without feeling so… _ guilty _ about it. It made him feel shitty for even entertaining the  _ thought _ of them both, when Nyma was  _ right there, _ being girlfriend of the century. 

“I forgot to do my homework so I gotta go do it before class starts,” Nyma says, giggling. Lance raises an eyebrow.

“Scandalous.” He purrs jokingly. Nyma laughs. 

She leans over a places her lips on Lance’s. Keith turns away quickly, face hot. 

“Later.” She says sweetly. She turns to Keith and bends down slightly in her heels, placing a friendly peck on his temple. Keith smiles tightly. 

She walks off, waving a manicured hand over her shoulder. 

Keith and Lance both sigh, and Keith is sure it’s for two completely different reasons. 

;

Keith tugs at his hair, fixing it and then messing it up again, bored of their english teacher’s lesson. He rarely pays any attention in this class anyway, he didn’t need to. He was good at english, he currently had an A. 

He places his arms on the table, growing tired of tugging. He places his head down, facing the right, opposite to the teacher. He eyes flutter close, though he had no intention of falling asleep. 

The teacher continues to drone on, and Keith has learned to just ignore her, she’d always ended up giving out a worksheet and Keith always ended up asking someone at his table for instruction anyway. 

Though eyes closed, Keith was still hyper aware of what Lance was doing to his left. His head was down as well, resting on his outstretched arm, his right hand messing with a pencil. 

It rolled up and down the table, creating a soft sound of wood against wood. Keith finds comfort in the sound, shoulders relaxing. 

Then, Keith hears the squeak and screech of a chair being moved. The pencil stops. Keith scrunches his nose. 

He can’t see Lance, but he can feel him on his back. He had scooted closer towards Keith, only a few inches separating their chairs. 

Keith feels hot when there is suddenly a light tug on his hair.

Lance. Lance, Lance, Lance. 

Keith freezes and he hears Lance giggle. “Relax, babe.” He teases quietly, not wanting to get caught by the teacher. 

Keith grumbles under his breath and Lance giggles again. 

Calloused fingers run through dark locks, nails gently scraping the scalp. Keith relaxes once more, sighing in content. Lance twirls, tugs, and musses up his hair, humming along to an unknown tune. 

Keith begins to tap his foot. He hums a similar tune of his own, thoughts drifting off towards the familiar keys of his keyboard.

_ One, two, three, one, two, three…A, C, D…No…A flat, C, D flat…A flat, C, D flat… _

The intercom crackles and soft voice begins to speak. 

“ _ All students participating in the ninth annual Rose Competition please report to room A-101, I repeat, all students participating in the Rose Competition please report to room A-101. Thank you.” _

Keith snaps his eyes open as Lance shakes at his shoulders. “That’s you, Keithy boy!” He says enthusiastically. Keith groans internally. A few students had turned their heads towards them due to Lance’s shouting. 

“Do I need a pass?” Keith grumbles. His english teacher looks surprised. 

“Oh, you’re actually going? Well, um, no. I think you can just go.” She says, dismissing him with a wave. Keith stands from his seat and heads towards the door, hearing Lance shout loudly from behind him. 

“Go get em babe!”

Keith flips him off. 

;

“Good morning students!”  A man with orangey red hair beams. “My name is Coran Smythe, founder of the LGBTQ foundation  _ Bloom _ , and also, your school vice principal!” 

Keith blinks slowly, leaning back into his seat. He takes a moment to look at the other students in the room. There was a small handful of seniors, including himself and Allura; a bit more juniors than last year, a fairly large group of freshman, and the room mostly seemed to be dominated by sophomores. 

Keith sighs. He’s going to be absolutely  _ humiliated _ competition night. At least no one will be there to tease him on his performance after he graduates. 

“Now, I assume you all brought your five dollar fee, so I would like you all to place it in the basket going around the room. There are forty-one heads and the door is locked. I will know if you didn’t put anything in. One cannot participate without paying the fee, so no funny business.”  Coran says intensely. 

The room grows silent as the basket gets passed around slowly. Keith places a crumpled five dollar bill into it as Coran breaks into a grin. 

“You were all brought here to discuss the competition, so let’s get to it! I’m going to pass around a sheet asking for your name and information, while that’s happening I want you to take this time to ask any questions you have. There are no dumb questions, but  _ goddammit _ , there  _ are _ stupid ones. Try not to ask any.”

A couple of hands shoot up instantly. Coran points at a girl with long brown hair. 

“Uh, will there be rehearsals at the amphitheatre? If so, when and at what time?” She asks. 

Coran smiles. “Great question! The Altean Amphitheatre is always very kind when it comes to that sort of stuff. It’s open to any students who wish to practice in the official setting, y’know, to get used to it. Uh, it will be open from the times two pm to six pm everyday until thursday. There will be a few teachers supervising the use of equipment like microphones and things like that. When going up to the front desk just show them your school ID and tell them you’re there for Rose Rehearsals. There’s going to be a list of names sent to them by the time this meeting ends, so they’ll know if you’re lying or not.”

The girl nods appreciatively. Coran points at another student, a guy this time. 

“Is there any specific order for performances?”  He asks. Coran shrugs, glancing down a the clipboard in his hands. 

“Usually we just go by the sign-up sheet. If you signed first, you go first. Signed last, you’re the grand finale.” He says. 

Keith freezes. The grand finale. That’s him.

_ Fuck. Oh, fuck. _

The information paper gets passed towards him, along with a blue ballpoint pen. Keith swallows back the guttural scream in his throat and takes the paper. 

He blocks out the questions being asked as he skims down the list of names. He scribbles down his name, grade, and phone number down in small bubbled lettering, stopping when he reaches the last column. 

**_Act:_ **

What  _ was _ his act? Well, he was going to sing right? Yeah…

Should he do this? Should he  _ really?  _ Was anything good going to come out of this?

“ _ You’re not going to die, Keith. It’s just a little friendly competition.” _

Yeah…Just a friendly competition, right? It’s supposed to be fun, right? He can have fun. Keith Kogane was  _ more _ than capable of having fun. Definitely. 

He sighs and writes  _Piano_ in the column. He passes the paper and pen to his right. 

_ Fun… _


	4. three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> three days until the rose competition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you like this! x

“Hey, Pidge.”

Keith chucks away his homework and grabs at his phone, looking at the screen with tired eyes.

Pidge scrunches her nose. “You look _lovely_ today,” She comments.

Keith rubs his face with a fist. He was about to protest, but she was right. He looked _lovely_.

“Uh, yeah, can I get will to live and with a side of purpose?” He asks.

Pidge pushes her glasses up with a knuckle, taking on a “basic white girl” persona.

“Uh, _well_ , ya see, um, it looks like we’re _all_ out of wills and purpose, but would ya like, uh, some depression and a side of anxiety?”

Keith groans and rolls over on his bed, the camera at an unflattering angle above him. “To go please.”

Pidge snorts.

“I’m so screwed, peanut.” Keith says, letting the ironic nickname slip out. It was a dumb inside joke.

Pidge ignores it, eyebrows furrowing. “What are you talking about?”

“The fucking competition.” Keith grumbles. He wipes at his face again, blocking out his view of Pidge pulling a disappointed look.

The sounds of the forgotten television grow louder as the leftover buzz if his second red bull courses through his veins.

“What ever could be the matter, o damsel?” Pidge asks, raising an eyebrow.

Keith glares at her for a second before responding. “I don’t know what I’m going to do, I’m so screwed.”

Before Pidge could say anything, Keith speaks up again.

“I mean, I said I was going to do piano…but that’s all I know. I can’t find a good fucking song to do and I feel like whatever song I end up picking is going to be shit and, oh my god, _Pidge_. Most of the acts are sophomores. _Sophomores! For fucksake!_ They’re gonna _laugh_ at me! Also, apparently, I’m the last act _ay kay ay_ the grand fucking finale of the whole fucking _show!_ What the fuck?! The whole thing is gonna end with _me!_ Sounding like a dying _duck!”_

Pidge groans, it’s loud, annoying, and irritating _(do those mean the same thing?)._ Keith huffs, pouting slightly.

 _“Dude,”_ Pidge starts. Keith frowns.

“Why don’t you just _write_ one?”

Keith blinks. “That’s–”

His eyes widen. It hits him like a ton of bricks.

Oh my _god_ , he’s so _stupid_. That’s… _genius_. Why hadn’t he thought of that before?

“I didn’t think of that before…” Keith voices out. Pidge snorts.

Keith blushes bright in embarrassment as Pidge’s light giggles turn into full on howls of laughter.

“Okay bye!” Keith says, quickly smashing the red _end call_ button.

Pidge disappears from the screen, along with her obnoxious laughter. Keith hastily runs over to his keyboard, placing his fingers on A flat, C, and D flat.

He’s going to write a song.

;

Keith groans for the umpteenth time, smashing random keys repeatedly. Songwriting was _hard_ , he realizes. Well, more like _remembers_ , because he hasn’t written a song in a _while_.

He stands from his piano bench, going back to his bed. He flops down onto his back, hearing the mattress groan and squeak.

He sighs. He only had about a few chords down, and some half assed lyrics he didn’t even think were good.

Some honorable mentions:

_He only has eyes for her._

_The way that he talks, it’s not hard to hang to his words._

_He’s the boy of my dreams._

Halfway through the frustrated hair pulling and lip chewing, Keith's brain stubbornly decided to produce only words related to, you guessed it, _Lance_.

Fucking _Lance_ is all he could think about as he pressed down on his off white piano keys.

So the song was about Lance. It was decided. A sad, gay song about Lance.

“Who has a girlfriend!” Keith shouts. It echoes throughout the room. Keith sits up.

“This is stupid. This is so _stupid_. This is the _last_ fucking straw, I’m dropping out. I’m dropping out. I’m not doing this, no sir.”

Keith eyes his phone, which blinked 7:15. He huffs. His conversation with Pidge had ended about two hours ago. Had he really spent that much time “songwriting?” Was he really that _pathetic_?

“I disgust me.” Keith says, standing from his bed. He leaves his room, grabbing his keys from the hook in the kitchen.

He sends a quick text to his mom, who wasn’t home yet.

_im going out_

;

After circling Manichly Park about two or three times, Keith concludes that God must hate him with a passion.

He imagines them on a golden throne, legs crossed elegantly, brows furrowed in concentration.

“Now, how can I make Akira Kogane’s life a living hell?” God says, squinting at a wall in their ethereal palace.

Keith sighs. “You’ve already succeeded.” He mutters to himself.

He stops in front of a small playground, quietly observing the kids run around, fall, and get up again, screeching in careless laughter.

He sighs again. What he would give to be a kid again…

“Keith?”

Keith jumps, startled, turning around to face the calling of his name.

Okay, so god must _really_ hate Keith. Immensely.

He sees a floral shirt and smells sweet perfume. He sees glossed lips and slightly chapped ones. Navy blue eyes and warm, toffee ones. Chocolate curls and blonde dutch braids.

Lance and Nyma were standing there, smiling, Nyma’s slender arm wrapping around Lance’s left one.

“Oh, hey guys.” Keith croaks, voice sounding more like a squeak, as his face flushes.

“What are you doing here?” Lance smiles, slightly confused. Nyma hums along.

“Uh, I-I was just…uh, taking a walk. You?” Keith stutters, trying to not make eye contact.

“Oh, we were gonna get ice cream.” Lance responds, quickly turning towards Nyma then back at Keith.

“Oh…cool.” Keith says. A small breeze picks up and Keith shivers slightly.

This was wasn’t awkward. No sir.

Lance was staring at Nyma, both silently communicating with their eyes. Lance turns back to Keith.

“Would you like to come with us?” He asks. Keith blinks.

“Huh?”

“Do you wanna come? Get ice cream with us, that is?”

Nyma is staring at Lance, eyebrows furrowed, slightly glaring. Keith bites his lip.

“I’m not intruding anything, am I?” Keith asks. He sees Nyma part her lips, but can only hear Lance’s excited tone.

“Definitely not! C’mon, we’re going to the Carvel down the street.” Lance grins.

He and a slightly disgruntled Nyma walk forward, and Lance swings his free arm over Keith’s shoulders, pulling him along.

Keith shuffles with them, eyes wide as Lance leads the way. He stares down at his docs, worried.

He feels the weight of Lance’s arm over him. Feels his warmth. He can smell the cologne he’s wearing.

It’s intoxicating.

Lance absentmindedly taps his fingers against Keith’s shoulder, creating an unusual beat.

Keith gulps. He’s hyper aware of Nyma on the other side of Lance, looking down at her shoes. She doesn’t look too psyched about Keith joining them.

Oh fuck. What has Keith done?

Lance them removes his arm and squirms his way out of Nyma’s grasp, lurching over to grab the handle of the door they had approached.

He pulls it open, a small bell jingles at the action.

“After you, m’lady.” Lance says. Nyma walks in, Keith following closely behind.

They steer over towards a small booth, sitting on opposite sides. “I’ll order!” Lance sing songs, leaving both seniors alone.

Nyma frowns. “What about you?” She asks, looking straight at Keith.

Keith shifts in seat. “He knows.” He admits, face beginning to burn.

Nyma blinks. “Oh, right. You’ve known him longer than I have. Must’ve slipped my mind.”

Keith nods, sending her a tight-lipped smile. “Sorry if I did intrude anything. Lance is kinda…well…y’know.”

Nyma nods, smiling. “Yeah, he’s a bit oblivious when it comes to that stuff. And it’s fine, really. This isn’t a date, really.”

“Okay, good. That would be very weird.” Keith says.

Nyma nods again. “Yeah…”

They sit in an awkward silence for a few minutes, Keith growing anxious every passing second.

“So,” Nyma starts. “I heard you signed up for the competition.”

Keith’s eyes flick over toward Lance, who was currently speaking to the cashier.

His eyes flick back to Nyma, who was waiting patiently for an answer.

“Uh, yeah.”

Nyma’s eyes narrow. “What are you doing?”

Keith shuts down for a second or two before sighing in relief as Lance skipped back to the booth, holding a cup tray.

“I got _the stuff.”_ Lance says suspiciously, obviously alluding to something other than ice cream.

“Thanks,” Keith says, taking a cup and spoon. He avoids Nyma’s stare and begins to pick at his sundae dasher.

“What are talking about?” Lance then asks, sliding in beside Nyma.

“The competition,” Nyma says before Keith could change the subject. “I was asking what his act is going to be.”

Keith looks up from his cup as Lance laughs. “Oh! Well, dear girlfriend of mine, Keith here’s an amazing singer.”

Nyma raises an eyebrow. “Really?” She asks, seemingly not convinced. Keith doesn’t blame her.

“Yeah, listen, he’s fucking great and–”

Lance continues to praise Keith’s so called “talent” and Keith finds himself thinking about his words.

Did Lance really think that? Did Lance actually like his singing? Did Lance really think he had talent?

Lance’s arm then swings over Nyma’s shoulders and Keith’s stomach lurches. He couldn’t help but think _I want that_.

Lance’s fingers curl around the ends of Nyma’s braids absentmindedly.

_Why can’t I have that?_

Nyma instinctively leans into Lance’s touch.

_I want to know what that feels like…_

Lance continues to speak and Keith continues to feel sorry for himself.

_Just once…_

Keith furrows his eyebrows, staring at a small yellow flower on Lance’s shirt.

_Those…Those could be lyrics…_

“I think I should go. It’s getting late.” Nyma says, lightly pushing Lance out of the booth. He stands up and she follows. Keith frowns.

“Okay, well…Uh, see you tomorrow.” Lance smiles, confused. Nyma smiles back, only it doesn’t reach her eyes. Lance doesn’t notice.

“Sure,” She replies curtly, pecking her boyfriend’s cheek.

She steps back quickly, sending both Lance and Keith a small wave before leaving, a bell jingling above her.

Lance shrugs, slipping back into the booth, opposite to Keith.

“That was weird,” Lance comments, eating his own ice cream.

Keith strains a smile. “Women,” Lance hums in response.

They sit and eat in silence, only it’s not as awkward as Nyma’s and Keith’s shared silence. They’ve known each other too long for it to be awkward.

_There’s nothing that I wouldn’t give…_

Keith’s feels Lance nudge his shin from under the table.

_To know how it feels…_

Keith smiles to himself and nudges Lance back.

_To have him…_

Lance snickers, nudging him harder this time. Keith let’s out a laugh.

_Just once…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> updates will be slower thanks to school being a binch :/,, theres no way im gonna abandon this tho!! it just might take some time! x


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